Between Wind and Water

berni M janssen

• Publisher: Spinifex Press
• Year: 2018
• ISBN:
  9781925581621
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Literatur
• Subtopic: Poesie

Almost everyone thinks that wind power is a great advance, but it too can be done the wrong way. Berni m janssen, through an extraordinary series of poems that are both riveting and deeply saddening, shares the stories of the people living in an idyllic country area into which wind turbines are erected. The world of nature, birds, trees, flowers, as well as wind, water and dust come to life, while the world of those subjected to the body-grinding, low-pitched sounds through so many sleepless nights fall apart. Berni m janssen is a highly respected performance poet and her starkly visual and visceral poems will leave audiences writhing in disbelief.

SPIN

Angie and Conrad speak out

Each bay its own wind. (Fijian proverb)

a night has harm, swooping on dark reaches, the waves, the waves, slash still air

a pulse, a throb, a hum, a rumble, a roar, a swooshing beat, that defeats sleep

awake with the waves, the waves, that hammer, drive, pierce, the soft snug of rest,

our hearts thunder, alert alarm, our eyes flick dark, ears pin,

wait for intruders heavy breath, snapping step, but a pulse, a hum, a throb

of waves, of waves our cells quiver. our legs twitch. we wait. sleep

distant, pressed from our being, while we wait. our ears hum. our ears ache.

pressure builds. as we wait, we breathe, to calm, we breathe deep and deep,

begging sleep to bless the wearied night, a night that needs no eyes for pass.

we washed out wrung out wave dragged weary. body stiffening into day.

first light beacons birds bellow. sunrise curses. a day begins with little joy.

Dan’s notes: late spring

so clear the stars hold all night turning this way that body buzz ears hum
	intermittent rain it is not just what you hear complain to council
foggy morning still neighbours windows double glazed quiet sleep real late
	south west wind blows hard another letter of complaint sent as if hands crush skull
calm, notes in work boots is windfarm noise compliant a high pitched whine
	blue skies southerly today mum and dad headaches company ‘no problem’

Gaby

Vera

san marzano, rouge de marmande, mortgage breaker,

oxheart, tommy toe, legend, capsicum, peperoncini,

pepadew, capsicum marconi, rosa bianca, greek eggplant,

zucchini tromboncino, zucchini cocozelle, cos, raddichio,

with the years passing, each a year of growing, eating

and returning to the soil, the soil deepens, rich and

thoughtful worms, tunnelling air, turning. each year

the harvest, fresh in summer the sweet smells hover

with bees, linger in the kitchen, add to the calm nights

warm joy. the garden is giving, and Vera is giving.

she tends the garden, digs the soil, composts, mulches.

harvests. cooks. preserves. a life begun, origin

spun in a village, stone homes crag top, her family root

clung centuries, a world away, in time and thought,

speranza sempre. her living is with the earth, all

her living with the earth. hands know the heat,

texture, till, the soil is tended. deep. full with

arugula, basil, broccolini, green calabrese,

romanesco, parsley, cucumbers, spring onions,

sweet corn, peas, butter beans, cavolo nero, spinach,

silverbeet, artichoke, parsnips, beetroot, carrots, swede,

hands skin hard crust crack, know tender, in the

roll of dough, the play of palms, clapped, clipped, held,

when small uncurls speranza sempre, spill the water

warm, on soaped soft, a tinyness exhales, the voice

grows tall, and the days tough end in a murmur.

they are planted the children, seed grown strong

and they on the wind away journey, blown some.

she is still stay, in the day to day of it all, in the

house on a hill, a home away, here, in the garden

talk shared neighbourly, from year to year, baskets

bounty balanced borne, amica, afternoons spread

binds, lives on land, a sun up a sun down, stories,

similar and sounding, they are together in the

paddock sprawl, country mile, solitary, there, when

needed, the familiarity of female, not, as in soul

secrets, but as necessity that turns differences to

comfort, and the small of everyday, sticky as jam, with

the years they are to each other kind, and now the

kindness of others, has been spliced by greed, they

turnips, nadine, nicola, desiree, dutch creams,

habanero, corno di toro rosso, yellow cayenne, green

chilli, red marconi, elephant garlic, spanish roja, silver white,

persian star, siciliano, italian purple, georgian crystal,

heed each other’s, worn and bleary, thump awake, fright

scuttles sleep, the dreams torn, tatter night of shattered

sleep, they fearfold, huddle inshared, stories of

what the night holds, on wind-drone ice-clear nights, the

bite, and in speaking together, know the other speaking

true, as they too, speak true, of what they, in the homeheart,

place of rest, of soul to soul open/bare, where dreams migrate,

in this place where truth is all, this disrupted, invaded, speranza

sempre, they know that to speak abroad of what they know

will not be believed, they know the isolation of their speaking,

they know their bodies pulse, quiver and t...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title Page
• Copyright
• Dedication
• contents
• Still
• Turn
• Spin
• Torque
• Tilt
• afterword